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Friday, 18 May 2012

The Therapy Zone

No.6 Plays Cat And Mouse With The Electorate! by our own reporter

    During the election period of Free for All, No.6 and No.58 spend an evening at the 'Cat & Mouse' night club. As the photograph shows, it seems that No.6 is a little worse for wear and was heard singing, and behaving in a somewhat drunken state! "I'm for you, You're for me. Vote for me and I'll be ever so comfortee!"
   Certainly this is not the kind of behaviour that the citizens have come to expect from electoral candidates, and surely will win No.6 no votes in the forthcoming election. This reporter tried to get a word with the candidate-No.6, but he was hurried outside the 'Cat & Mouse' to a waiting taxi, and was driven away into the night by No.58.
   Later I asked No.58 what was wrong with No.6, and how he was able to get in the state he had. No.58 apparently gave a full and detailed interview. However it is quite impossible to reproduce what No.58 actually said, as no-one but No.2 can understand a single word that woman utters!
   No.6's behaviour is of course atrocious and cannot be condoned, certainly not for  man in his position, who wishes to attain the lofty position of No.2. But the question must be asked, how exactly did No.6 get into this drunken state? the 'Cat & Mouse' only serves non-alcoholic drinks. This reporter intends to carry out an investigation in the state of drinks served at the 'Cat & Mouse.' I can see the headline now......    Is Prohibition Dead In The Village?

Your own reporter
Photographer no.113b



Games Of Cat And Mouse with our own reporter

    It was only last night that I paid a visit to the 'Cat & Mouse' nightclub. I was determined to get to the bottom of No.6's seemingly drunken state of the previous night. Could it be that the 'Cat & Mouse' was fighting prohibition here in the village, by selling alcoholic drinks? So choosing a corner booth, I attracted the waitresses' attention.
   "Yes sir?"
   "I'd like a drink please."
   "Yes Sir. Gin whisky, vodka, looks the same, tastes the same."
   "I, I err, mean a real drink."
   "I'm sorry, I'm not with you" replied the waitress.
   "An alcoholic drink" I suggested to her.
   "Oh, we only sell non-alcoholc drinks. Gin, whisky, vodka, looks the same tastes the same" the waitress replied with conviction.
   "So how come only last night No.6 had to be helped out of here by No.58, as he was too drunk to walk un-aided?"
   "I don't know what you mean sir."
   No, I don't think the waitress did. More like the drinks served to No.6 were doctored with alcohol at the bar. So I settled for a fizzy pop, and sat back observing both the barman and the clientele of the 'Cat & Mouse.
   There was an elderly lady wearing a big floppy hat dancing to the jazz music, music provided by the black speakers dotted about the nightclub. Even though there was a drum kit in the corner which seemed to be playing in the same fashion as a pianola does. Then another woman turned up, and she was carrying a large copper vessel with some form of vapour issuing from it, like incense. Was this how No.6 became intoxicated, drugged and not drunk? So to test this hypothesis I sat breathing in the vapour for half an hour, hardly touching my fizzy pop, and felt the effects of nothing. As for the barman, I could see nothing to give colour that he was doctoring customers drink with alcohol. Unless of course the alcohol was already in the brew, which seemed likely to me. Yet customers were sat quietly drinking, no boisterous behaviour was evident. So deciding to call it a night I downed my fizzy pop, and made to leave. Yet by the time I got to the hat-rack girl, I was staggering about shouting that I can out drink any man, and singing a song about Nellie Dean and there being an old mill by the stream, as I staggered outside the nightclub!
   All that was achieved was a hangover from one fizzy pop. I told my editor and he said go back tonight, but lay off the fizzy pop. But get it analysed instead. My remit is to bring back a story of the breaking of prohibition that will be louder than the curfew bell to make the whole village ring!

Your own reporter.

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